


Restless Sleep

by GoofyGoldenGirl



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Billford - Freeform, Desire, Dreams, First Sexual Experience, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Seduction, Sexual Tension, Shoulder Massage, Sleep, Wet Dream, i have sinned, mindscape, welcome to billford hell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-11
Packaged: 2018-04-20 07:04:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4778027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoofyGoldenGirl/pseuds/GoofyGoldenGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>It was about three in the morning when Stanford felt himself falling in and out of sleep. He gripped even tighter to his pencil but found that it had dropped to the ground. His head heavy, he began to close his eyes... </em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless Sleep

"Welcome back IQ."

Stanford glanced up to see Bill right in front of him. 

"I'm asleep?" He asked.

"Yep! Knocked yourself out there. Man IQ you work yourself way too hard!"

"I don't work myself enough," Stanford said. "I wish humans had the ability to forgo sleep. We'd be a more productive species if we could use up all the hours in a day. Don't you think?"

"Absolutely," Bill agreed, moving his body as if to nod. "You'd all be in peak condition."

"But alas, it's biologically impossible," Ford sighed. 

"Aw come on IQ. If you didn't sleep, you wouldn't see me!" Bill brightly said.

"That is true," Ford smiled at him.

"And trust me, you deserve that break," Bill moved over to hover behind Stanford. "Don't you like to see me?"

"I do."

Bill's thin hands placed themselves on Stanford's shoulders. They began to move in a forward motion: forward and down. Forward and down. And again. 

"You're massaging my shoulders," he sounded surprised but it wasn't a question.

"You've never had a massage before?" Bill responded.

"No. I've--I've never been touched like that. Ever."

Bill crept in closer, his hands still gripping onto Ford. 

"Really? You surprise me Stanford. I always thought a man like you would have people falling head over heels just to be in your presence."

"I--I haven't had the best luck with women," Ford broke out into a blush.

" _Just_ women? No men to stir your fancy?" Bill questioned.

"Men?" Ford stuttered, his cheeks turning an even darker shade of red. "I--"

"I mean _look_ at you. You're clever. Not bad looking at all. They're crazy not to want you."

Bill's hands pressed down even harder. Ford shuddered.

"You think I--" Ford was at a loss for words.

"I always have IQ."

Bill's hands slid over and across Ford's chest.

Stanford felt the front of Bill's body caress against his head. His shoulders dropped as he leaned back. He felt his skin become clammy; sweat starting to form on his forehead.

"Bill," he breathed, aroused. "Bill."

"I can do more than just rub your shoulders," Bill whispered. "Let me make the most of your so called 'useless' sleep."

Bill's hands began to move down. Stanford moaned.  
***********************************************************  
Light had flooded the study by the time Stanford awoke. Books and papers lay scattered around the desk where he had slept. His head rested on a sheet of paper that contained an equation he had been working on. Drool stains blotted the paper, smudging the numbers and letters.

He blinked, not caring that his glasses were askew. He smiled, feeling more refreshed than he had in a long time. 

Still in a sleep like daze, Ford made a move to sit up.

It was then he noticed a stickiness around his crotch.

He pushed his glasses back and blinked once more. He glanced down to see a dark patch on the front of his jeans. It had mostly dried but still was a bit damp.

"I haven't had a wet dream since high school," he remarked.

But was it a dream?

The sensation of hands on his skin, the heat that burned with each touch, the cry he let out as he released. It felt too _real_ to have been _just_ a dream.

He glanced over at the statuette of Bill he kept on the desk. It had the exact same likeness as the creature itself. The same round, all seeing eye, the same golden color that sparkled when the sun hit it, and the same hat and bow tie.

For a moment, Ford swore that the statuette winked at him. As if Bill wanted to let him know that the dream had been real.


End file.
